


Using You // Using Me

by Copper_Nails (Her_Madjesty)



Series: Want [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Sex competition, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Madjesty/pseuds/Copper_Nails
Summary: They don’t touch on purpose. Every brush of skin is accidental.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *continues to throw smut into the fandom* I have my life under control.

He’s not sure when it started, exactly. The sheets of his bunk are curled around his feet now, though, as are his pants, and he’s palming himself, molars grinding against one another. Opposite him, with her ankles tucked neatly in between his, sits Jyn. Her shirt has been long abandoned to his floor, and she’s cupping her breasts in both of her hands. He can smell the wetness of her if he tries hard enough, if he breathes deeply enough, but every stroke makes it more difficult for him to catch his breath.

There was a moment, several days ago, when she’d come stumbling into his bunk – mouth bleeding, a fight with some recruits, she’d claimed, and oh, how his hands had shaken as he’d invited her inside. She’d settled herself on his bed and wiped her blood on his sheets; he’d grumbled at her, all the while watching the way her shoulders tensed and the hold of her jaw grew tight.

He hadn’t touched her. Maybe he’d wanted to – maybe he’d thought about it – but he hadn’t. He’d leaned back against the shitty metal headboard the Rebellion had provided him, instead, and watched her. She’d shifted, uncomfortable but with her eyes bright.

(Maybe his cock had twitched in his pants at the sight of that, of her face half obscured by darkness and her glowing, sparking eyes. Maybe he’d entertained the thought of reaching forward – just entertained the thought, really – and taking her hair out of its too-tight bun; of touching her cheek and getting burned.)

“There are ways,” he’d started, voice rocky and deep, “ah, healthier ways to deal with…stressful things like this.”

Her eyes had narrowed, her mouth had quirked. For a long moment, it’d looked like she was about to laugh at him. The flush that had burned up the back of his neck had stuck with him as she stared, as she readjusted on his bed, bringing her still-booted feet up onto his sheets.

“Captain,” she’d said, one eyebrow pointedly raised. “I’ve heard smoother lines from a Hutt.”

He’d sputtered, and the flush had gotten worse, but it had been worth the laugh she’d offered him in return. He doesn’t remember when she slipped her boots off, or when the laughter had cooled into something else, something new, but he _does_ remember her slipping out of her shirt. He’d done his best not to stare, done his best to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.

Jyn had blinked at him, wide-eyed and innocence, before bringing a hand up to her breast. “Come on, Captain,” she’d said, flicking a finger over a nipple. “I’ll bet that I can come before you can.”

(On an obscure, slightly more stable level, Cassian had thought he’d stumbled into a dream. The steel of a bet, though – the gunpowder tucked behind Jyn’s shadowed eyes – made his heart thunder.)

So he’d palmed himself through his pants, then, like he’s palming himself, now, watching Jyn do the same on the other side of the bed.

He’s still not sure when it’d become a habit, but far be it from him to try and complain.

They don’t touch on purpose; every brush of skin is accidental. Jyn, small as she is, tends to sprawl out when she takes her pleasure; her legs can fall off the bed or tangle around his calves. Cassian, on the other hand, holds himself as still as he can. He takes shallow breaths in through thin lips and tries not to stare at one part of her for too long. He knows, as she knows, that he often fails.

The competition tonight, at least, is not for speed. He strokes himself again, slow and languid, watching Jyn’s eyes as they drift over his body.

The bet tonight is for who can last the longest.

(He doesn’t know what they’re winning, making bets like this. He doesn’t know if he cares.)

She moves with grace, lavishing one of her nipples while she takes him in. Cassian feels himself burning wherever her gaze travels; his scars, his bruises, old wounds and new – he can hide nothing from her, not even in the dark. He grimaces, feeling the heat in his belly spike higher, and tries to tamp it down, but the corner of Jyn’s mouth quirks and he finds himself enthralled.

Her body is as much as mess as his is, though she carries the weight of her history with more bearing than he does. The bruises from the fight that first brought her to him have healed, but there are new ones on both of her hips (he doesn’t know from where) and a new scar, puckering up on her forearm. He wants to lean forward and lavish it with his tongue, but he doesn’t. He keeps his back pressed up against the cool metal of the headboard and swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, hissing as he does.

Jyn’s hand stutters on her breast. She brings up her second and slowly rolls her unattended nipple to stiffness, her mouth gently opening as she does. Her hips buck upward in an almost invisible movement, but Cassian sees, and his breath catches in his chest.

Jyn’s eyes narrow. Cassian’s throat grows tight.

Jyn arches into her own touch, after a moment, letting her eyes drift shut. One hand drifts down past her stomach, into the dark thatch of curls between her legs. She doesn’t touch herself, not quite, just hovers above, teasing a wetness that Cassian can see gleaming despite the darkness. His cock twitches up towards his belly; it’d be flat against him were he not working so hard against himself.

He stares as Jyn’s hand travels and wonders if the fight is really worth it. She brushes a knuckle against her clit and sucks in a breath so sharp that Cassian almost winces. She doesn’t stop moving, though; her finger moves in the smallest, slowest circles, leaving her wiggling, digging her heels deeper into Cassian’s mattress.

Cassian watches, eyes fixed on the way her body arches and ears twitching at every soft curse that leaves her mouth.

It’s the breathy moan of ‘ _Cassian_ ’, however, that brings him up short. His hand stills on his cock; his eyes go wide. Jyn doesn’t seem to have noticed the slip; she lets her head fall back and continues her tight ministrations.

Cassian tries to find his voice. Fails. His cock pulses in a way that verges on painful as he stares, watching the breath leave Jyn’s lungs like a symphony.

“ _Cassian_ ,” she whispers again, and his name tastes like stardust.

The whine that escapes him doesn’t hurt because he doesn’t quite feel it. Jyn opens her eyes for a second, maybe less, and he wonders at the sight she sees. She smiles at him, gentle and biting all at once, and he feels himself go tight. He could come from that look alone, and she knows it, she knows him, she’s _playing_ with him.

“Jyn,” he swears, voice ragged and harsh. Her smile grows wider as she closes her eyes again. The hand still at her breast goes tight on her nipple, and the gasp she lets out nearly sends him over.

He wants to do everything at once, wants to twitch out of his skin, wants to lean forward on his hands and knees and press his face into the wetness of her. He wants to _taste_ her. But Cassian holds. He brushes his ankle against hers as he leans further back, pumping his cock with more care, letting his other hand wander up and down the trail of hair right below his navel.

Jyn doesn’t open her eyes to watch him. Cassian lets himself enjoy the show.

She pulls her hand away from her breast, at last, and begins to grind against herself. Cassian matches her pace and bites into his bottom lip, tasting iron. She adds a second finger. He picks up speed. She lets out a sigh that sounds like his name; his voice catches and turns ‘Jyn’ into a whine, into a prayer. Something in her face breaks, at this; she adds a third fingers and pumps more vigorously, hips bucking upward, feet tangling up with his.

Cassian feels the warmth of her skin on his and wonders, for a split second, maybe less, what her red, bitten lips taste like.

Then, head falling backwards, he’s coming. Jyn’s name leaves him like it’s been punched out of him; across the bed, Jyn doesn’t quite scream, but his name gets drawn out of her, long and loud, through her gritted teeth.

Cassian’s stomach is painted white when he collapses back onto his pillow. His eyes drift close just as Jyn collapses, as well, but her legs end up tucked against his knees. She’s breathing heavily; he listens to the sound of her and considers reaching out, but curls his hands into fists, instead.

“I win,” he hears her say, the breathlessness still in her voice. He wants to say something in response, something dark, some sort of warning, but all that escapes him is her name, as quiet and tired as the sun at dawn.

When he opens his eyes, she’s looking at him, her lips curved into the softest of smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
